


Death of an Immortal

by IronDadAndHisSpiderson



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: But he comes back, Changing POV, Immortal Merlin (Merlin), Lancelot POV, M/M, Merlin POV, Merlin dies, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29921253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronDadAndHisSpiderson/pseuds/IronDadAndHisSpiderson
Summary: Emrys means immortal, but immortal doesn't mean he can't die. When Merlin, Arthur and the knights are attacked by bandits, Merlin is killed... temporarily. His subsequent resurrection hours later forces him to come clean about his magic to everyone.(sorry, I'm terrible at summaries) (Teen and up for a bit of violence and mild language)
Relationships: Gwaine & Lancelot (Merlin), Gwaine & Merlin (Merlin), Knights of the Round Table & Merlin (Merlin), Lancelot/Merlin (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

(Lancelot POV)

According to Arthur, the bandits had come out of nowhere. According to Lancelot, Merlin had warned them multiple times, Arthur had told him he was a girl for being scared of every rustling leaf in the forest, and so when the bandits rushed them from all sides, shouting, Lancelot couldn't help but share an _I told you so_ , look with Merlin before he was drawn into the fight. 

As he fought, Lancelot felt a semi-familiar warmth spreading through his sword arm. It was the same feeling he had gotten when Merlin had enchanted his spear to kill the griffin. Lancelot relaxed slightly, letting what was surely Merlin’s magic help guide him. 

There was the whistle of an arrow, and the magic guiding him faltered, making him jerk his sword arm, before the magic released him. Lancelot frantically cut down the bandit he was fighting and looked for Merlin. 

“Merlin!” Lancelot screamed, frantically trying to find his love. After a second, he spotted him, standing next to a large tree, his hands clasped over his stomach, where an arrow shaft protruded from him. As Lancelot watched in horror, the hidden archer on the far side of the clearing loosed another arrow, which pierced Merlin straight through the right side of his chest. _Right through his heart, _Lancelot realized with horror, remembering what Merlin had said about his differences from being a dragon-lord.__

____

____

“No!” Lancelot screamed. He fought his way towards the other man, barely noticing the bandits that he was cutting down. After what seemed like an eternity, he reached Merlin’s side and dropped to his knees beside the warlock, his sword falling forgotten to the ground. 

“Lance-” Merlin wheezed, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. 

“No, please, Merlin…” Lancelot said, gently pulling the warlock’s head into his lap, knowing that there was nothing he could do but comfort his love in his final moments. 

“Love… you…” Merlin wheezed, eyes drooping shut. 

“Don't leave me, please, Merlin,” Lancelot whispered, tears pooling in his eyes and pouring down his cheeks. Lancelot smoothed Merlin’s hair back from his forehead, watching as Merlin’s eyes sparked gold, then returned to blue.

“Take… arrow… out. When… gone?” Merlin wheezed, barely audible, “Please?” Lancelot nodded, unable to speak through the lump in his throat. 

“Don’t leave me,” Lancelot whispered. Merlin’s lips quirked upward. 

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” Merlin quipped, his eyes sparking again before returning to the fading blue. Then Merlin’s eyes closed and his hand fumbled at his jacket, reaching inside to retrieve a small wooden dragon figurine. He shakily pushed it into Lancelot’s palm. “Keep safe…” Merlin whispered, “‘Till I come home.” Lancelot grasped the little dragon, and Merlin’s hand went limp as he let out a breath, blue eyes fading somehow as the spark behind them went out. Lancelot couldn’t help the scream that was ripped from him. He pressed his fingers to Merlin’s pulse point, praying desperately that there would still be a heartbeat, however faint, there. There was nothing except rapidly cooling flesh beneath his fingers. Lancelot screamed again, this time cursing the gods for their cruelty, begging Merlin not to leave him, begging the gods to let him take Merlin’s place in death. His screams seemed to fall on deaf ears, as Merlin neither drew a breath nor opened his eyes.

A hand on his shoulder had Lancelot fumbling for his sword with the hand that wasn’t holding the wooden dragon. _It was a gift from my father, _Merlin’s words echoed in Lancelot’s ears, _The only thing I have left of him. _Lancelot grasped the hilt of his sword and swung blindly at the person who had touched him, desperate to live for Merlin. Merlin would want him to fight to the end, even if he felt like simply succumbing to whatever death was coming for him.____

_____ _

_____ _

“Lancelot,” a firm, familiar voice said, “It’s me. I won’t hurt you.” Lancelot’s vision cleared enough for him to see Leon, his own sword locked with Lancelot’s, inches from the other knight’s face. Lancelot’s sword fell from his grasp as a fresh wave of tears came over him. Leon set down his own sword and pulled Lancelot close, hugging him hard. Leon smelled of blood and sweat, which simultaneously comforted Lancelot and made him want to throw up. “I’ve got you,” Leon whispered, “You’re safe, I’ve got you.”

“He can’t be gone,” Lancelot whispered, “He’s Merlin. He can’t.” Leon was running a soothing hand through his hair, but it felt all wrong. It should have been Merlin’s hands, calloused, - but not the same way a knight’s hands were - dexterous, gentle. Instead, Leon’s hands were sword-calloused, full of a strength that was more obvious than Merlin’s. “He’s Merlin,” Lancelot whispered again. He felt Leon’s breath hitch, and realized that the First Knight was crying as well. Lancelot sensed the presence of others, and then someone was running a hand over Merlin’s brow, and Lancelot screamed.

“Don’t touch him!” Lancelot screamed, his voice cracking from the volume of his yell. He launched himself out of Leon's arms, drawing a knife on the person who was daring to dishonor Merlin with their touch. His knife struck, and the person let out a familiar grunt, then hands were on Lancelot, pulling him away from Merlin and the mystery person. “No!” Lancelot screamed, “No, Merlin! Get away from him! Merlin!”

“Lancelot, it’s just us, it’s just us. No one’s going to do anything to him,” Leon said calmly. Lancelot’s chest was heaving as he struggled to draw enough air into his lungs, and slowly, he realized that the man who had caressed Merlin’s brow was Gwaine. Gwaine, his friend, who was drawing Lancelot’s knife out of his shoulder and pressing a hand to the bleeding wound.

“Oh, god,” Lancelot whispered, suddenly collapsing against Leon, “Gwaine… I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Gwaine whispered, not looking away from Merlin’s face. Lancelot looked down at his hand, covered in blood. He didn’t want the blood to get on Merlin’s little dragon.

“Blood,” Lancelot whispered, “Need to wash my hands. Please. Please. No blood on his dragon. Please. No blood.” He continued to ramble, not quite sure what he was saying, until the dragon was removed from his grasp and Leon was pulling at his hands, pouring cool water over them. Lancelot watched as the red rivulets ran from his hands, dripping into the soil. 

By the time that Lancelot’s hands were clean enough to satisfy him that none of Merlin’s blood was left on them (it had taken them three waterskins before he accepted that there was no more blood), the others had wrapped Merlin’s body in a red shroud. Lancelot wondered where it had come from before he noticed that Gwaine, Elyan, and Percival were all missing their cloaks.

“The arrow,” Lancelot said hoarsely, suddenly remembering his promise to the dying warlock, “I have to get the arrow. I promised.” Leon was holding him back, but he fought to get to Merlin again until Gwaine knelt in front of him and took his face in his hands.

“The arrow is out,” Gwaine whispered, “It’s okay, he would understand that you didn’t do it yourself.”

“Percival, help me get his body on a horse,” Arthur’s voice was all business, emotionless, “Gwaine, get Lancelot on his horse. You’re in charge of getting him home. Everyone else, mount up. We can make it back to Camelot by nightfall if we hurry.” Numbly, Lancelot let Gwaine lead him over to his horse.

“Can you ride alone?” Gwaine asked quietly. Lancelot looked at his horse, then Gwaine, then his horse again. His brain seemed to be working at a quarter of the speed that it usually did. _Can I ride?_ Lancelot wondered. He absently petted the wooden dragon, hands shaking worse than he had ever experienced. With a deep breath, he shook his head. 

“Don’t think so,” Lancelot whispered. Gwaine nodded understandingly. 

“Let’s get you on, and I’ll ride with you,” Gwaine replied quietly. Lancelot looked up at his horse, realizing that he would have to let go of the dragon again to mount her. Shakily, he extended the hand holding the dragon towards Gwaine.

“Hold this?” Lancelot asked quietly. Gwaine wiped a hand on his cloak, then extended it and gently plucked the dragon from Lancelot’s palm. Then Lancelot turned and mounted, settling into the saddle and gripping the pommel tightly as a sudden wave of nausea hit him. Gwaine handed him the little dragon, then messed with the packs behind the saddle, moving them to his own horse, who’s leadline he secured to the back of Lancelot’s saddle. After a few minutes of shuffling things between the two horses, Gwaine pulled himself into the saddle behind Lancelot, reaching around him to take up the reins. Lancelot leaned back against him, boneless.

Finally, they set off. Nobody spoke, and the silence was solemn and stifling. Gwaine made sure to block Lancelot’s view of the horse where Merlin’s body, wrapped in the red cloaks, was tied down. Lancelot felt numb.

“He wasn’t supposed to die,” Lancelot whispered, “That wasn’t his destiny. Emrys… He told me it meant ‘The immortal one’. How can he be dead? It’s not right.”

“Emrys?” Gwaine asked, “What does that mean?”

“He’s the one the druids talk about,” Leon piped up, looking back at them, “The greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth, the immortal one. Why are we talking about this?” Lancelot instinctively tensed, trying to find a way to redirect the conversation, to protect Merlin’s secret. Then the world seemed to crash down around him as he realized Merlin was gone. _Is there even a secret to protect anymore?_ Lancelot wondered, _If I’m killed for treason, I’ll just join him, won’t I?_ Lancelot suddenly started sobbing again, and Gwaine halted the horse as the other man squirmed to get off. He had to see Merlin again. He couldn’t be dead. That’s not what was supposed to happen. The rest of the party had halted and turned back as Gwaine wrestled to try and keep Lancelot in the saddle. 

“Lancelot, what are you-” Gwaine grunted, trying to hold Lancelot still with one arm, and steady his horse with the other hand.

“He can’t be dead!” Lancelot yelled, “That's not how it was supposed to go! Merlin!”

“Lancelot, you’re going to push us both off if you don’t stop squirming,” Gwaine said firmly. Lancelot stilled, suddenly exhausted by his efforts.

“He wasn’t supposed to die,” Lancelot whispered, “He was supposed to live.” Gwaine ran a hand through Lancelot’s curls, who whimpered.

“I’m sorry,” Gwaine whispered, “I failed him. I’m sorry.” Another solemn silence fell over the group.

“We should stop and make camp,” Arthur finally said, “There’s a grove of trees just ahead that should do. Come.” He urged his horse onwards, and the rest of the group slowly followed.

They stopped and began unpacking and setting up camp. Lancelot knew he should help - he always helped Merlin when he set up camp - but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything besides collapse down next to the campfire that Elyan had started. Lancelot watched in numb grief as Percival and Arthur untied Merlin’s body from his horse and set it against a tree at the edge of their campsite.

Lancelot stared into the campfire for a long time. Elyan found supplies in Merlin’s bags to make a soup and dished it out, but Lancelot couldn’t bring himself to eat anything. He knew Merlin would want him to eat, to keep up his strength, but Lancelot wasn’t sure that he would be able to keep it down if he tried. After a while, he set aside the full bowl and curled himself into a ball under his blanket, hoping that he might at least find an hour or two of relief in his dreams. 


	2. Chapter 2

(Merlin POV)

Merlin came to with a deep, shuddering breath. He opened his eyes, and found himself sitting against a tree, in a forest. Sunlight filtered through the canopy high above, lighting the area around him brightly. _Where am I?_ Merlin wondered, _Why am I not in pain?_ Startled by this realization, Merlin looked down at himself. 

He was dressed in the same clothes he remembered getting into this morning, complete with neck kerchief and jacket. However, no arrow shaft protruded from his chest, and no blood stained his clothes.

“Son?” A familiar, deep voice said from behind him. Merlin looked around, and saw Balinor standing nearby, looking stunned. 

“Dad?” Merlin asked, and suddenly he understood. “No, no, no!” Merlin whispered, “I’m dead. No, I can’t be dead!” Merlin scrambled to his feet, looking around him frantically. “I’m not supposed to die!” Merlin exclaimed, confused and scared, “Kilgharrah said I was supposed to be by Arthur’s side during his reign! The druids said I was Emrys, the Immortal One! I’m not supposed to die!”

“Merlin? What are you doing here?” Will asked. Merlin whirled around to face his friend, panic setting in. 

“Oh no. I’m dead,” Merlin breathed, “I’m dead. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.”

“Merlin, calm yourself,” A woman’s voice said. Merlin turned to see Freya approaching him, smiling gently.

“Freya…” Merlin whispered, regret washing over him, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry.” Freya came to him, brushed the hair back from his forehead, then pressed a gentle kiss to it. 

“I do not blame you for my death, Merlin Emrys,” she said quietly, “And neither should you. You will not be here long, do not despair. Your body needs time to heal before it can contain your spirit again. For you, the afterlife is simply a waiting room. You will be at Arthur’s side again soon enough.”

“Wait, he’s going to come back to life?” Will asked, sounding confused, “How does that work?”

“He is Emrys,” Freya said calmly, “Emrys, the Immortal One. He is destined to help Arthur build a great kingdom and restore magic to that kingdom. Merlin will not stay with us until his job is done. Until then, he can only visit.” Merlin swallowed hard.

“Will it… will it hurt? To go back?” Merlin asked, “Dying hurt.”

“I don’t know, son,” Balinor replied softly, “But I know that you can do it. You are stronger than the people around you give you credit for.” Merlin smiled at that.

“Lancelot knows,” Merlin said, “About my magic. About the fact I’m a Dragon-Lord. He is really good about giving me credit when I deserve it. It’s just a shame that no one else sees it. But they will. One day. I have to believe that.” 

“Lancelot is a good man,” Balinor said, “I am happy for you, and you have my full blessings if you should choose to get married.” Merlin smiled, a blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Thank you, dad,” Merlin whispered, “That means a lot to me.” Balinor hugged him, and Merlin hugged back. Then Merlin felt a strong pull inside of him, as if his magic was trying to escape. “I love you,” Merlin said, “All of you.” He looked to each of them in turn, memorizing every detail while he had the chance. Then his magic tugged especially hard, and everything went black.


	3. Chapter 3

(POV Lancelot)

Lancelot sat, staring into the final embers of the fire. He poked at them absently with a stick, then whispered “Forbearnan”. Nothing happened. Lancelot swallowed hard and tossed the stick he had been poking at the embers with into the fire pit. 

“I… I can’t do this,” Lancelot whispered, “I can’t go on without you, Merlin.” Tears spilled down his cheeks, and he let them flow, covering his mouth to muffle his sobs so as not to wake anyone who had managed to fall asleep. “How am I gonna-gonna tell Gaius? How can I go back to Camelot, when you were what made it home? I don’t want to leave again, but I don’t know if I can stay without you. It will hurt too much,” Lancelot continued, “And Gwaine… I don’t think he’ll stay without you. God, I hope he does, because I don’t know what our weird little family would be without him. I don’t know what’s going to become of us all without you.” Lancelot pulled his blanket tighter around his shoulders, still staring into the dying fire.

_You can do this, Lancelot,_ Merlin’s voice said in his head. Lancelot’s head shot up and he looked around. He looked at the covered figure that was Merlin’s body, but there were no signs that the warlock had risen from the dead. No, this was Lancelot’s memory of Merlin saying what he knew Merlin would if he had been there. _You are strong, you will pull through. It hurts. I know that. Losing someone you love hurts like hell. But you can do this. Stay strong. For me._

With a sigh, Lancelot stood and began to pace, the blanket still pulled tightly around his shoulders. He knew that his pacing might wake the others, but he needed to move, and didn’t want to leave the comfort of his family. Lancelot pointedly avoided approaching Merlin’s body, staying on the far side of the campsite from it.

Suddenly, a surge of what Lancelot recognised to be magic flowed through him, causing Lancelot to drop to his hands and knees as it clenched at him, before releasing. Right after the pulse flowed through him, the camp stirred. On edge, Lancelot pushed himself to his feet and drew his sword. 

“What was that?” Leon’s voice was groggy, but the First Knight was on his feet, sword in hand in moments. Arthur followed him closely, the rest of the knights staggering to their feet within the following minute. A second pulse of magic surged through all of them, and Lancelot hurried over to Merlin’s body. Beneath the red of the cloaks shrouding his body, Lancelot thought he could see a faint golden glow. 

“Merlin!” Lancelot yelled, hope and fear coursing through him in equal amounts. He dropped to his knees beside his love’s body, pulling at the cloaks to try and reveal his face. As he tore at the fabrics, desperately trying to see what was happening, Merlin coughed, then took a deep breath. Merlin took another ragged breath, then let out a heart-wrenching scream of pain. As he did so, the cloaks that Lancelot had been trying unsuccessfully to remove ripped away from him, scattering around the clearing.

“What’s happening?” Arthur yelled. Lancelot shook his head, and backed away from Merlin slightly, scared by what had just happened. Merlin screamed again, and then the air around him shimmered golden and his body began to rise up from the ground.

“Merlin!” Lancelot called, scared and helpless against whatever was happening. The air around Merlin glowed brighter and brighter until it was unbearable to look at and Lancelot had to shield his eyes. Then, suddenly, the light disappeared and everything went eerily silent. Slowly, Lancelot lowered his hands and opened his eyes.

“Lancelot?” Merlin’s voice was hoarse. The warlock was on his hands and knees, breathing hard, looking up at Lancelot.

“Merlin?” Lancelot whispered, almost positive that he was losing it. Merlin’s face cracked into a bright smile, his golden eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Told ya’ that I’d come home,” Merlin said, grinning. Then his face fell and he looked down at himself. “Seriously?” he grumbled, “I can come back to life, but I destroy all my clothes in the process? I’m assuming that’s what happened? ‘Cause anything else would be a bit creepy.” Still not sure if what he was seeing was real, Lancelot’s fingers fumbled at his cloak and he hurried to drape it around Merlin’s nude form. He fastened the clasp, then ran his hands over Merlin’s prominent cheekbones, feeling the warmth of his skin. 

“What the fuck?” Arthur yelled, shattering the moment, “Seriously, what the fuck just happened?” Merlin sat back on his heels, pulled the cloak tighter around him, covering himself. Then one of his hands snaked out from beneath the cloak, grasped Lancelot’s collar and pulled him close.

“Kiss me?” Merlin whispered. Lancelot obliged, crashing their lips together a little more forcefully than he had meant to. He felt tears begin to run down his face as he pulled Merlin closer, stroking his hair with a shaking hand.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again, Merlin,” Lancelot said when they broke apart, “Never, you hear me?” Merlin smiled at him, and Lancelot felt a surge of gentle magic pass through him, calming him.

“I’ll do my best,” Merlin whispered, “Now, think you could find me something to wear? Not that I don’t love your cloak, but some pants would be much appreciated.” 

“Here,” Gwaine said as he approached, holding a pair of breeches, “They probably won’t fit great, but…” Merlin smiled at Gwaine and took the breeches from him. 

“Thanks,” Merlin said hoarsely. Lancelot turned away to give Merlin some privacy while he pulled on Gwaine’s spare breeches. “Is it just me, or is it colder than it was earlier?” Merlin asked, causing Lancelot to turn back towards him. The warlock was stumbling towards the remains of their campfire, looking like he might collapse at any moment. Lancelot instinctively dogged his footsteps, ready to catch him. As he sunk down to sit next to the embers, Merlin glanced back at all of the stunned knights, who were staring at him. “Well, I guess there’s no point keeping secrets anymore,” Merlin muttered, “Forbearnan.” Flames sprang to life from the embers, and Merlin held his hands out to warm them. Then he looked over his shoulder at the rest of the knights. “Come here,” Merlin said, “I’ll explain everything. Just come and sit.” As the others slowly approached, Merlin leaned into Lancelot and smiled up at him. Lancelot gasped as he realized that one of Merlin’s eyes had returned to its usual blue, but the other was still shining gold. “What is it?” Merlin asked, frowning. 

“Your… Your eyes,” Lancelot whispered. Merlin’s frown deepened, and he reached up to touch his face.

“What’s wrong with my eyes?” Merlin asked, sounding slightly scared. Lancelot reached out and traced his thumb over Merlin’s cheekbone under his golden eye.

“This one,” Lancelot whispered, “It’s still gold.” 

“What?” Merlin asked, confusion clear on his face. He waved a hand, his blue eye flared gold, and as the gold receded a small mirror appeared in Merlin’s hand. Merlin stared into the mirror for a long moment without a reaction. Finally, he set the mirror down and looked back at Lancelot. “Hmm, that’s weird,” Merlin said, “Not the weirdest thing that’s happened to me today, but surprising nonetheless.” Merlin shrugged, then looked around at the others, where they had all taken seats around the campfire. “Thanks for the breeches, Gwaine,” Merlin said. Then Merlin looked at Arthur. “You can all ask your questions,” Merlin said quietly, “I’ll answer them. I’m done hiding and lying.” The silence was stifling for a long moment. 

“You… You were dead,” Arthur was the one who finally broke the silence. Merlin nodded.

“Yeah, an arrow through the heart will do that to you,” he replied, “It fucking hurt.” 

“Through the heart?” Leon said, sounding confused, “It struck you on the right. Gaius says the heart is on the left.” Merlin nodded, pressing closer to Lancelot, who slid his arm around Merlin’s waist and squeezed it gently in encouragement.

“A human’s heart is,” Merlin replied, “But a dragon’s heart is on it’s right. And apparently a Dragon-Lord takes after dragons rather than humans in that aspect, because that arrow definitely went through my heart. Trust me.”

“You’re a Dragon-Lord and a sorcerer?” Gwaine asked, sounding impressed.

“Warlock,” Merlin corrected, “And yeah, I’m the last Dragon-Lord.” Merlin looked at Arthur, directing his next words to him. “You didn’t kill the Great Dragon, he’s still alive. I sent him away though, you don’t need to worry about him.” Merlin could almost see the gears turning in Arthur’s head as he tried to process all the information.

“Wait…” Arthur finally said slowly, “That means Balinor was…”

“My father,” Merlin said, a lump in his throat at the thought of his father. 

“Oh God,” Arthur whispered, looking horrified, “I told you he wasn’t worth your tears. I told you not to cry over him. Merlin… I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay, Arthur,” Merlin said, “You didn’t know. It hurt a lot at the time, being told not to cry, that he wasn’t worth my tears. But it’s okay now.” Merlin rested his head on Lancelot’s shoulder and pulled his knees up to his chest, hugging them. He smiled slightly as he thought of his father and their brief conversation before he had come back to life. “Oh!” Merlin exclaimed, sitting up and turning to look at Lancelot, “Not that I’m proposing to you right after I just came back from the dead, but dad says we have his blessing to get married if we want to. He likes you.” Lancelot couldn’t help the slightly hysterical laugh that was pulled out of him at that. It was all too much. 

“You can’t have magic,” Leon’s voice was as close to panic as Lancelot had ever heard, and it grounded him. “I mean… magic has to be taught, right? Who taught you? Gaius wouldn’t have… I mean, not right there. Not right under Arthur’s nose. Under Uther…”

“I was born with magic,” Merlin said, “As far as I’m aware, it’s just as common to be born with magic as it is to develop it later in life, or to simply learn it. I’ve been able to do magic since before I could walk.” Leon paled. 

“You mean… the children? They might have been born with magic? They didn’t choose it?” Leon said, sounding horrified. Merlin nodded solemnly. 

“Yeah, children with magic have probably had it since they were born,” Merlin said quietly. Leon pressed a hand over his mouth, looking horrified. 

“Oh God,” Leon’s whisper was muffled by his hand, but still audible, “Oh God.” Percival pulled Leon into a hug as the First Knight started shaking with quiet sobs. Lancelot’s chest clenched painfully as he realized that Leon had probably ordered or carried out the executions of many, many children. This new information seemed to have broken him. Merlin pulled away from Lancelot’s side and crossed to crouch in front of Leon. 

“Leon,” Merlin said quietly, “Leon, listen to me. You are not a bad person. You were following orders born of fear and lack of understanding. You are not to blame for the innocent lives that were lost to your blade or your order. I, Emrys, the embodiment of magic, do not blame you. Please don’t blame yourself. We can’t bring them back, but we can honor their memories and do better moving forward. You are not to blame.” Leon lifted his head to look at Merlin through his tears. 

“How… how can you say that?” Leon asked, “Why don’t you hate me?” Merlin laid a hand on Leon’s cheek as the other knight looked at him with a mixture of sadness and fear in his eyes. 

“I don’t hate you because you didn’t know any better,” Merlin said, “And now, you feel remorse. You are not heartless, or cruel. And I don’t hate you because I know that now, once you have more understanding, you will be open to change. You want to right your wrongs, and the way that can be done is to change your actions going forward. You deserve forgiveness.” 

“I don’t feel like I do,” Leon whispered. 

“Leon, I forgive you. The dead forgive you,” Merlin said clearly, “Do not torture yourself over what has been done.” Leon nodded. 

“I’ll try,” Leon whispered. Merlin smiled. 

“Good,” Merlin replied. He pressed a gentle kiss to Leon’s forehead, then stood up. Merlin looked around at them all, before crossing to Lancelot. “I need some sleep,” Merlin said, “Apparently coming back to life is exhausting. Any more questions can wait for tomorrow. Lancelot doesn’t take watch tonight, I want to snuggle with him.” Then Merlin grasped Lancelot’s hand and dragged him over to his bedroll. Lancelot managed to snag his blanket from where it had been dropped, forgotten, before allowing his warlock to drag him off. Merlin lay half on Lancelot’s bedroll and Lancelot lay down next to him, pulling the warlock into his arms and flinging his blanket over them. 

“I love you, Merlin,” Lancelot whispered, hugging him close, “I couldn’t deal with losing you.” 

“You won’t have to,” Merlin whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Lancelot smiled and caught Merlin’s lips in a sweet kiss. Then he tucked the blanket tighter around them and drifted off to sleep, content that Merlin was safe in his arms. 


End file.
